


Slim

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21797035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto has a shopping fail.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 10
Kudos: 121





	Slim

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“Noct?”

All of Noctis’ boredom immediately disappears; he perks up, head cocking back towards the thin wall of beige fabric that separates him from a maybe undressed Prompto. The mid-range boutique they’re in is just a small slice of the massive mall, where real estate’s at a premium. They don’t have a proper alley of changing rooms: just two side-by-side cutouts blocked off with curtains. That should be a deterrent, because it feels like flimsy privacy, but somehow, Noctis has still been hoping that Prompto will ask him to sneak inside, and he’ll get to bang his boyfriend in between sets of crazy tight skinny jeans. There isn’t much room back there, but there should be just enough for Noctis to bend Prompto over the mirror and drill into him from behind. Maybe with the new pants stretched tight around his thighs. And nothing on top. Then Noctis can grind Prompto’s bare chest against the mirror, letting the cold surface pebble his rosy nipples, so Noctis can reach around and—

“ _Noct_.”

The second one sounds more frantic, a little whiny, and that punctures Noctis’ fantasy. The only other people in the store are two teenager girls keeping the one attendant occupied, but Noctis is still subtle as he leans over and hisses, “What?”

“I... I think I’m stuck.”

“What?”

“Can you, like... _help_ me?”

Noctis checks again. All three women are distracted. None of the passersby out the mall entrance are giving him a second glance, even though he’s the crown prince of Lucis and should probably draw at least a _few_ stares. But he’s not. So he quickly slips past the curtain, cramming up beside Prompto in the tiny space. Prompto stumbles back, ass hitting the white wall. His old jeans are in a crumpled pile beside his feet, draped over his boots. The new ones are a dark coeurl-print and sucked so tight against his trim legs that they might as well be painted on. 

Noctis takes a second just to admire that, because he can really see _everything_ —he’s always _loved_ Prompto’s predilection for tight clothing. He’s always suspected it was meant to attract his attention, and it works. But Prompto actually sounds distressed this time. He whimpers, “Noct, I can’t seem to get them off...”

Noctis swallows the automatic bad joke about getting somebody off. As close as this is to his dream scenario, he knows he can’t actually start anything when Prompto’s unhappy, because Prompto would probably give in, and then Noctis would feel like an asshole. Instead, he drops his hands to Prompto’s waist and actually _behaves_.

Sure, he tries to get Prompto’s pants off, but for once, he’s doing it innocently. He slots his thumbs through the belt loops, twists back over the edges, prying between the denim and Prompto’s skin, and really tries to push. Prompto’s zipper isn’t even closed—it’s wide open around his white briefs, showing off the soft bulge of his cock. Noctis averts his eyes and tries not to look at that. He also doesn’t look at Prompto’s blushing face, because there’s nothing cuter than seeing those freckled cheeks dusted pink. He really _tries_ to help, but it just doesn’t work. 

Prompto groans, “Oh dear Six... what if we have to call Gladio to rip them off or something?”

“No way.” Pantsless Prompto is a very special thing that only _Noctis_ gets to see. Besides, he’s totally stronger than Gladiolus. He squirms down Prompto’s body, hands running down Prompto’s legs, trying to find anywhere the fabric might be bunched up enough to get a handhold. It’s all completely glued on. By the time Noctis is kneeling between Prompto’s feet, he’s blushing as hard as Prompto is, because Prompto’s open crotch is in his face and it would be so easy to lean over and mouth at it. 

Except then Prompto would inevitably get hard, because Noctis is that great with his mouth, and then the pants would be even _tighter_ on him. Really, really trying not to think about that, Noctis mutters, “Maybe if we could grease you up somehow...”

“This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Really?”

“Well, right next to tripping in front of you when you called me heavy...”

Noctis’ head snaps up, everything else forgotten: “Dude, serious, I’m _so_ sorry about that! I didn’t mean—”

“I know, I know, it’s fine—um, keep trying? You pull down there, I push up here?”

Noctis does. He grabs one hem in each hand and tries to tug the jeans down Prompto’s ankles whilst _not_ staring at Prompto’s not-so-soft-anymore dick in the process, but it’s _really_ hard. 

It gets to the point where Prompto’s grunting with the effort, then giving up and panting, leaving Noctis to growl in frustration and focus on just one leg. He pulls down as forcefully as he can, chest arching forward, his whole arm tensing with it, his teeth grit together, centimeters from the hanging zipper.

The curtain wrenches back, and the disgruntled shopkeeper tells them, “Only one person per—!” Then she seems to realize what they’re doing, flickers into anger, only to really study Noctis’ face and pale. “Oh... Oh Six, Your Highness?”

Noctis stares up at her and blurts out, “Uh, carry on, Citizen.”

The shopkeeper’s mouth works like a fish. She dazedly says, “Okay,” and leaves. She just sort of turns around and... walks off.

Noctis hurriedly yanks the curtain closed again. He gets back onto his feet and makes the executive decision, “Just buy the pants. We’ll cut you out at home.”

“ _Cut_?”

“Or oil you up.”

Prompto groans.

“Or I guess we could ask Iggy...”

Prompto slumps back against the wall and whines, “I’m never wearing skinny jeans again.”

“Please wear skinny jeans again.”

“I can’t get the zipper up.”

“You got the rest on.”

“I wasn’t hard then.”

Noctis glances down and _almost_ feels proud of himself. Now that they seem to have clearance to continue in the changing room, he’s sorely tempted to relieve both of their problems. 

But he’s a better boyfriend than that, so instead he buys them both long coats they can zip all the way down, and once they’ve successfully made it out of the mall, he warps them up to the roof to finish what they started.


End file.
